Feeding A Need
by Todd's Pet
Summary: This racey wraithy little ditty was inpsired by GW's Das insisting that wraith would not be interested in mating with humans. It started out as a serious look at wraith biology but ended up far from serious!


Feeding A Need

"How did it go?"  
Aurelian and Greg nudge each other as Spike shrugs wordlessly in answer to Aurel's leading question. The two wraith had decided to meet their young colleague off the cruiser when it returned from the new Queen's hive.  
Greg in particular, being so much older, has been through this process twice himself and never misses an opportunity to tease others about it.  
"That good, huh?" Aurel persists, who had his Queen-mating just a few years ago, recently enough to remember it clearly and still have the odd flashback to trouble him in the middle of the night.  
"Come on," Greg teases, slapping Spike hard on the back. "Details! We want details!"  
"Why?" Spike goads in return. "Was it so long ago for you that you can't remember what happens?"  
Greg laughs in good humour and nudges Spike in the ribs with his elbow. "Oh, I remember what to do all right - and human females are altogether softer and sweeter than wraith Queens... if you know what I mean..." He winks suggestively.  
"No, I don't know what you mean," Spike mutters. "As you know full well, I've never been with a human female."  
Aurel laughs heartily and gives Greg a brotherly shove along the corridor as they walk. "He's only just survived his Queen mating! Give him time to recover before he starts on the worshippers."  
Greg and Aurel banter back and forth with Spike slouching along between them, looking as if he wishes he were invisible.  
"They keep looking at me," he says.  
"Who does?" Aurel asks, then sees what he means, as every other wraith in the corridor turns to look at Spike as they pass them by.  
"It's like they all know..." Spike sounds as embarrassed as he looks.  
"They do!" Greg booms, slapping Spike on the back again. "You positively reek of Queen pheromone!"  
"Don't worry," Aurel says reassuringly. "It'll wear off in a couple of weeks."

oOo

Spike wishes the dreams had also worn off in a couple of weeks. Wraith don't sleep much between hibernation cycles but he'd been warned that the sudden flood of hormones into his system would make him sleep a lot for a while.  
The trouble is that, every time he tries, he dreams of his mating with the new Queen. It's not entirely pleasant.  
He rolls over onto his back and clasps his hands behind his head. He watches the pools of soft light in the hive ceiling drift and dissolve into each other and lets his mind wander.  
Male wraith don't have an urge to mate as such, certainly not what humans would call a sex drive. Like their human-form digestive systems, male wraiths' reproductive organs are there but dormant. Spike had never given it a moment's thought for literally millennia.  
But now, all of a sudden, he can think of nothing else.  
When a new queen emerges from childhood and is ready to mate, their hive Queen, packs all her offspring off to go and mate. It's not practical for a Queen to head a hive full of nothing but her own sons, and wraith allegiances are so shaky anyway that there's always a lot of movement between hives. In Spike's case the Queen of this hive is his mother, so off he was sent to "do his duty".  
Almost the instant he had set foot on the other hive he could feel the surge of hormones flood through his system as the new Queen's powerful pheromones literally switched on his drive to mate. Spike did not like the sensation at all; he hated not feeling in control.  
For the entire month that he had spent on the hive all he wanted to do was mate, he was compelled, driven, he would have copulated with the nearest drone if there had been no Queen available.  
The memory makes him shudder in disgust.  
But he had tolerated it because he believed it would stop as soon as he did what he had to do and left the new Queen with her store of genetic material with which to reproduce and create her first hive.  
But it hasn't stopped.  
He reminds himself to be grateful for the dramatic reduction in hormones surging around his body, so that at least he is back in control of himself, but he still thinks almost constantly about mating. His "sex drive" has not gone back to the sleep state he had expected it to.  
Finding it intolerable he decides he has no choice but to ask someone's advice. But who would know anything about this?

oOo

"Ah yes, that happens to some of us." Eddie tries to look sympathetic but can't help himself from grinning just a little.  
"You mean I won't ever go back to normal?" Spike looks aghast.  
"Normal?" Eddie's brow ridges shoot halfway up his forehead. "What the heck is normal?"  
"Well, I thought normal was what I was before, actually," Spike replies, slightly peeved.  
"Well, there's a small minority of us who never go back to the way we were before we got turned on, so to speak!" Eddie explains. "For most, their hormone systems return to dormant and they never have a single thought about sex again." Eddie winks and adds, "But some of us get lucky and the hormones hang around."  
"You mean I'll be like this forever?" Spike looks so shocked, Eddie wonders if he's likely to faint.  
"Chill, bro'," Eddie says. Now he doesn't even try to hide his broad grin. "Once you get used to it you might even like it."  
"I find that hard to believe!" Spike gasps. "I can't function normally, can't think of anything else! What am I supposed to do? There's no Queen I can mate with anymore."  
"Ah," Eddie says, tapping the side of his nose with a forefinger. "Now that's what the worshippers are for."  
Spike almost does a double-take and he looks at Eddie wide-eyed. "The worshippers? But how...?"  
"Well, most of them are a bit on the breakable side, but then you'll have noticed your sex drive isn't nearly as rabid now as it was in the Queen's presence, so while human females are not exactly ideal, they're a very acceptable substitute!" Eddie leans forward and leers. "Though there are a few - only a few, mind - who are a bit... how should I put it? Less fragile! You can be more yourself with them. They can be damned inventive too – they really are a whole lot more fun than your average Queen! But they won't go with you until you get yourself a bit of a reputation, if you know what I mean." Eddie visibly preens.  
"They won't...?" Spike is clearly even more confused now than he was before. "They do the choosing?"  
"Stars and Queens, yes!" Eddie whistles. "They may be humans but they know their own worth – they're in demand! But, we took a batch in recently, so I'm sure I can find you a newbie who'll be willing to help you work off some of that hormone overload..."

oOo

Trudi's a new worshipper and doesn't know what worshipping a wraith involves. She's not a simpering virgin, but she's only here because she considered it preferable to dying.  
Inexperienced, but not stupid, she's managed to work out that it probably involves sex of some kind. But they didn't exactly give her a wraith biology instruction manual, so she has no idea if they even have the same… well, the same basic lay-out as a human male.  
Trudi figures she's about to find out pretty soon.  
She's grateful for the only piece of advice she did get when one of the tiny band of experienced and popular worshippers whispered in her ear, "They're ruled by females; they're submissive around women, so you'll have to take the lead."  
He looks even more nervous than she feels and, after some agitated muttering he had decided to go and take a shower. She's certain that if she doesn't make the first move, nothing at all will ever happen.  
She stands in the middle of the room, listening to the rushing of water from next door and trying to work out what to do. He's good looking for a wraith, she thinks, and Trudi realises she's more than a little curious. It can't do any harm, can it? After all, isn't it what she's meant to be here for?  
She creeps slowly around the partitioning wall, sidling one step at a time until he comes into view. Her hand flies to her mouth to stifle a gasp.  
Spike is standing beneath a cascade of water, his back facing her. Whatever he's got round front, she thinks, his back is certainly different. Most noticeably is the line of ridges running down his spine, almost reptilian; and then her eyes are drawn to the jagged black lines of tattoos that cover his back and sides and arms. They are impressively warrior-like and she becomes increasingly aware of how just watching him is exciting her.  
Sensing her presence, he turns to face her and her eyes widen. Oh my, she thinks to herself, that's certainly different - most men she knows would sell their soul to have one of those.  
Mesmerised, she steps into the shower, her gaze glued to his groin, and it's several seconds before she realizes that she's fully clothed and getting soaked through. She tears her eyes away and looks up at his face and sees him staring at her chest. Her t-shirt is soaked through and virtually transparent, so she pulls it up over her head and tosses it to the side, where it lands on the floor with a wet slap.  
As if the noise had snapped him out of a trance, he lunges toward her. He's more than a full head taller than her, and that impressive body part that so intrigued her earlier is nudging at her belly-button. This could be awkward, she thinks, as she helps him wriggle her out of her wet trousers. Just as she's trying to work out the logistics of the situation, he lifts her up and pins her to the back wall of the shower cubicle. This'll work, she thinks, wrapping her legs around his hips.  
But then he slaps his right hand on her chest and she squeals in sudden panic and presses her back against the wall, pushing him away from her.  
The moment is gone in a sudden rush and Spike growls angrily, grabbing the towel from the bench as he stomps out of the room.  
Staring after him, open-mouthed, Trudi suddenly understands what just happened. "Damn it to hell, you idiot!" she admonishes herself aloud.

oOo

"I'm sorry," she says quietly.  
He looks round and sees her standing in the doorway, still naked and wet; her hair hanging around her shoulders, water dripping from the ends onto the floor. "Do you have another towel?" she asks.  
He turns away from her as he snaps the towel from around his own waist and holds it out to her with his arm held out behind him. She takes it and, instead of wrapping herself in it, as he had expected her to, she blots her hair dry.  
"It was understandable," he says, "I would not have harmed you. We cycle life force back and forth when we… For wraith, feeding is inextricably linked with…" His voice falters and he looks uncomfortable.  
"Sex and food often go together for humans too," she tells him. "I'm sorry I pushed you away – it was a knee jerk reaction. It won't happen again, I promise. That is, if you'll let me try again…?"  
He twists to look at her over his shoulder. "You want to?"  
"Sure," she smiles. "Tell you what… you wouldn't happen to have chocolate ice-cream on the hive - or chocolate sauce, or… well, anything chocolate, really?" He pulls his brows down into a puzzled frown and she adds, "Believe me, if you can get some, it'll work!"  
He takes a side step toward the door and inclines his head as if listening to something. "The drone seems to know what you need," he says, intrigued.  
She stands looking around the room while they wait. "No log fire or sunset beach, but hey, this will have to do," she observes.  
No more than ten minutes later he shields her from the open door with his own body as he takes a tray from the drone outside. He stands in the middle of the room with it and says, "What do I do with this?"  
She sits on the floor and beckons him over and he sits in front of her and places the tray between them. Spike picks up a dark brown bottle and frowns again. "What is this?"  
She takes the bottle from him and points it directly at him. She laughs and squirts a long steam of chocolate sauce onto his chest. Then she throws the bottle over her shoulder with a giggle and makes a dive onto his chest.  
Spike is thrown over onto his back and is momentarily confused by the sensation of her licking the thick, sticky substance from his chest. But the more she does it, the more he likes it and the desire to feed starts to well up in him again. He grits his teeth and squeezes his feeding hand into a fist and tries to control himself, but it gets harder by the second.  
Wanting to finish this before he tries to feed on her again, he flips her over onto her back and slides into her. He's surprised to hear her sigh contentedly when he does – and even more surprised when she looks him straight in the eye as she takes his feeding hand and guides it between her breasts.  
"You fed me, now I feed you," she whispers and he has no choice but to clamp down with his feeding hand, her trust in him swelling powerful feelings he's never felt before.  
Eddie was right, he thinks as he gives himself up to the ecstasy of her sweet life force - this is a whole lot more fun than with a Queen.

oOo

The new Queen admits the next batch of wraith officers to her private chambers. She may be young but she's been well schooled by her predecessor; she knows there will be casualties.  
When she passed puberty and moved from food to feeding on human life force, her body started to secrete powerful pheromones. It was then that her mother, the Queen, turned her out of the hive she'd been brought up in. Now she has taken her own hive and must replenish its numbers.  
The officer caste male wraith that flock to her hive are driven into a mating frenzy by her pheromones; they will mate with her or die trying. Some of them do both - for wraith, feeding is a crucial part of "foreplay", usually in a mutual give-and-take cycling of life force. But on occasion young Queens who have only just started feeding on life force can get a little carried away and take far more than they give.  
A few wraith never make it back to their original hive.  
This new Queen also knows that, as soon as she's gathered what she needs from them into her body, her own hormones will switch off and she'll never mate again. The male wraith she's mating with ought to do likewise, but some of them don't; for some the hormones she releases in them continue to circulate in their bloodstream for life.  
They are the ones who take human females as worshippers.  
Her mother had explained to her that she must maintain a small population of human females on her hive and protect and nurture them, for these women who are willing to mate with her sons are in effect maintaining the peace on the hive, keeping her officers focused and working together for the good of the hive, not back-fighting each other for mates.  
Most Queens accept and maintain this arrangement, although it is not in their own best interests to admit to being "dependent" in this way on humans, albeit only a small handful of sympathetic females. It was the Queens therefore who first came up with the concept of wraith worshippers, the public face of what these women do for the hives.

oOo

"That was truly inspired!" Star tells Trudi encouragingly.  
"Not so much, I think –Spike said the drone knew exactly what I meant."  
"Well, let's just say," Tippi grins, "That there are a significant number of wraith on this hive willing to be chocolate coated in exchange for a nibble on an extra-defiant and tasty human female!"  
"Isn't it dangerous?" Trudi asks. "Are there ever any accidents?"  
"You mean do any of them get carried away and not stop until you're so dried out even olive oil won't fix your skin?" Star prompts.  
"Well, I wouldn't have put it quite so flippantly."  
"Oh, believe me, hon," Tippi says, "sometimes flippant is all that gets you through the day on a wraith hive."  
"Sure, there's that risk," Star answers Trudi's question. "But that's why they worship us!"  
"Excuse me? I thought we were the worshippers?"  
"In theory we are," Star replies, "but in practice women willing to be wraith lovers are revered by the majority of them - even those who don't need us because their sex drives have gone dormant again still show us a certain level of respect."  
"Really? I thought they were contemptuous of humans."  
"Most humans yes, but not us," Tippi tells her. "They consider us the bravest of the brave! You've got to admit that being intimate with a wraith leaves you damned vulnerable – they see this as a display of fearlessness."  
"And of course, there is also the male wraith instinct to be governed by a female – they tend to respect the female gender in general," Star adds. "You'll find that out for yourself over the years."  
"You think I'll last that long?"  
"How old do you think I am?" Tippi asks out of the blue.  
"About twenty-five?" Trudi replies cautiously.  
"I've been living on this hive for sixty years."  
Trudi's jaw falls open and Star affectionately throws her arm around her shoulders. "You managed your first time really well," she tells her. "Believe me, you're going to be around a long time."

oOo

Trudi walks the corridors of the wraith hive that are now so familiar to her. Most wraith pass her by with barely an acknowledgement, though they give her a respectfully wide berth. She nods to several as she passes them, however; the ones she knows. She smiles wryly to herself. After almost fifty years on this hive she knows some of the wraith exceptionally well indeed.  
Like all of the women in their small, but close-knit group, she has her favourites.  
She waves her hand over the control panel of a door set into the corridor and waits for it to open, and when it does, the wraith inside turns and beams at her.  
She steps into his room and he walks toward her holding a metal can in one hand. "Look what I found," he says, a slightly sleazy grin playing around the corners of his mouth.  
"I think we can do without the squirty cream, Spike," she laughs softly and takes the can from him, tossing it over her shoulder. "Tonight, I just want you, completely unadorned." She wraps her arms around his neck, entwining her fingers in his long, soft hair, marveling how, after all these years, she can never get enough of him.


End file.
